


docking

by thefudge



Category: Avenue 5 (TV)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Woman, Resolved Sexual Tension, Secret Crush, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:16:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23020822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: 1x07. Billie tries to boost the Captain's morale.
Relationships: Ryan Clark/Billie McEvoy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 90





	docking

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is basically what i would've liked to happen after the end of episode 7, so it's my rendition of a "missing scene". anyway, i ship them so hard, u guys, i'm mad at myself! i'm already in too deep! oh yeah, prepare for this fic to be even more non-canon after 1x08, probably (but a bitch can dream!)

“Six months,” he rasps, head hanging between his knees. “This whole _day_ has felt like six months. So really, it’s more like I have to learn to dock a ship _in a day_.” 

Billie eases herself next to him. “Okaaay, that’s some really wonky math, even for you. I think you’re spiraling.”

The would-be Captain expels a dry laugh. “Nooo, that’ll be the ship. _Spiraling_ , I mean. Because I have no fucking clue how I’ll fly it, much less dock it.” 

Billie lifts her hand tentatively, lets it hover over his broad back, hopes the body heat will be enough. “There...there...we’ll think of something. We always do.”

Ryan looks up at her with a savage glint in his eye. “Is that your sorry attempt at comforting me?” 

“Hey, at least I’m trying.”

He frowns. “Why are you not panicking like I am?”

“I am. I just don’t show it.”

“Well, now is the appropriate time to show it,” he mutters, leaning back against the couch. 

Billie bites her lip. She’s about to say something stupid, which is rather unlike her, but she feels it’s the right time to say it. And maybe it’s true. 

“I guess...I’m not _that_ worried. I mean, I am, obviously. But I...have faith in you? In _us_.”

Ryan’s eyebrows threaten to reach his hairline. He gapes at her. “You...what? You have _faith_?”

Billie nods. She feels almost as surprised as he does. “I know, I can’t believe I’m saying it. Maybe tomorrow I’ll realize how fucked we are, but right now it...doesn’t seem so bad.”

Ryan is still staring at her like she’s the Pope. Well, not the Poop Pope that’s orbiting the ship, thankfully. 

“I thought you said science doesn’t require faith,” he says, a little hoarse. 

“Yes, but what we’re going to do doesn’t just involve science, unfortunately. In fact, I fear science will make up a very small part,” she concludes grimly. 

“Oh. The rest will be sheer dumb luck.”

“Exactly.”

“Great. Well...thanks for having faith in me, I guess,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” 

“No, no, I’m...humbled, really.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know what it is. Maybe you remind me of my father.”

Ryan chuckles. “Hey now, don’t shoot a man while he’s down.”

Billie laughs. “What? My dad was a lot of fun. He was a fun dad.”

“Fun dad, is that what I am?” Ryan wonders, head cocked to the side. “Not like I’ll find out since my spouses would rather I died in space vacuum than have a child with me.”

Billie clears her throat. “Sorry about...your divorce. And sorry about not saying sorry earlier.”

Ryan waves it off. “You had more important things to do than look after my fragile ego. You’re not Iris.”

Billie squints playfully. “I don’t know...you and Judd, it’s just a matter of extra pounds, really.” 

Ryan nudges her. “All right, you’ve had your laugh. Go on now, return to your date. I’ll be fine.” 

Billie frowns. “My what now?”

“You know, the young stand-up you were laughing with earlier. You should finish that conversation. God knows when we’ll catch another break.” 

Billie laughs forcefully. “It wasn’t - he’s not - I mean, he’s cute I guess, but he’s not really my type.” 

“He was _cute_ enough that you didn’t want to sit at the captain’s table.” 

He meant for it to sound like a barb between pals, but it comes out oddly bitter. Almost resentful. He’d been watching her like a hawk all night. 

“I’m sorry, but that was the table of _death_. You stormed out a few minutes later, anyway. And that’s how I got the “excess weight” idea. When you kicked back your chair and -”

She stops mid-sentence. The lights in his quarters flicker and dim, until they are a muted shade of burgundy. 

“What is happening?”

Ryan sighs. “Right. That’s the insomnia setting. I, uh, I’ve had trouble sleeping.”

“Oh, okay.”

Their faces are cast in shadow. Suddenly, just sitting on the couch feels too intimate and... loaded. Why did she come back here with him alone? Oh, right. Comfort. She wanted to make him feel better. For practical reasons. Because they need him - _she_ needs him to - okay, they’re staring at each other without talking - this is not good - she has to say something -

“I have trouble sleeping too sometimes. But especially these days. You know, cuz of the stress,” she offers haltingly. 

Ryan nods, eyes hooded. “You don’t need to tell me about stress.” 

Billie laces her fingers in her lap and shifts forward, meaning to get up, but her knee brushes against his knee, and they’re somehow closer than they were before. She can smell whiskey on his breath and it’s not too bad. 

“Um, yeah. Stress,” she repeats dumbly. 

“Want to know a secret?” he says in that husky way that makes him such an effective figurehead for this whole damned operation. 

“What?”

“I, uh, I’m glad you didn’t get to finish your date.”

Billie swallows. “It wasn’t a date.” 

“Still. I like you by my side. My right hand man. Woman.” 

Billie feels both flattered and insulted. She squirms. “You managed to handle Harrison without me.” 

“Are you kidding me? You rushed in to save the day, once again, and I simply rode on your coattails.”

Billie feels her cheeks getting warm. “Get off, then. Get off my - my coattails.”

Ryan smiles. “I’m trying, but you’ve laid out a generous bolt of fabric.” 

She tilts her head. Sometimes he sounds so old-fashioned. Like he still belongs in the twenty-first century. She smiles back. “Yeah, that’s me. Too nice for my own good.”

His expression turns mischievous. “Oh, now we both know that’s not true.”

And for some reason, the sentence is as loaded as the lurid light and their position on the couch. 

She could get up right now, find the switch and get out of this oddly stifling environment. But if she did, they wouldn’t be this close anymore and the truth is - the truth is she _also_ likes being at his side. No matter how galling. It’s like a habit you’ve grown infuriatingly used to. 

“Here’s my secret,” she says, a little breathless. “I, um, I was thinking about you during my “date” - which wasn’t really a date.”

Ryan’s gaze turns curiously intent. “You were?”

“Y-yes. I was mostly thinking about the mess you were making. How poorly you were performing.” 

Another low chuckle rumbles in his throat and she likes how rough it sounds. She’s ashamed to admit that she likes how much _older_ he is. 

“I don’t always perform _so_ poorly,” he quips. 

And this time it’s _got_ to be a double entendre, but it also sounds disarmingly genuine. That’s the thing with Ryan. He’s a silver fox with a potty mouth, but he’s also got this babyish innocence, this innate softness that both draws her and repels her. 

Even his name - _Ryan_ \- doesn’t belong to someone who can make a Moby Dick beard look this good. But she really shouldn’t be thinking about dicks right now - 

And then _Ryan_ \- because that’s still his name - tries to be a fucking gentleman and asks her if she’d like a drink and Billie just grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him to her because, as those halcyon songs of the past used to go, “bitches be thirsty”. 

Their mouths mash clumsily, missing the mark almost, but they recover incredibly fast as he grasps her waist and pulls her against him. His hands on the back of a uniform search for something to hold onto and she likes the way his fingers roam helplessly, hungrily, and it doesn’t feel uncomfortable when they keep missing the mark, kissing around each other. It’s actually kind of hot, how they keep sliding their mouths back and forth, stumbling but also hitting the right spot, how his beard scratches the side of her throat as he nips at her jaw and _yes_ , she has a thing for old men, specifically this older man, so she straddles his lap without even asking. Ryan inhales sharply against her mouth and kisses her harder, squeezing the flesh right above her ass. Billie lifts herself a little so that now he _is_ cupping her ass and “ _holy motherfuck_ ” he hisses, which makes her feel pretty good about herself. His head dives into the cleavage of her overalls and Billie sighs happily, tilting her head back, tugging at his silver hair. She’s always wanted to do that. They’re good at reading each other’s minds because Ryan comes up for air enough to say, “fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. Does that make me a creep?”

Billie cradles his cheek. “Yeah, it fucking does.” 

He grins, and it makes her feel a little unsteady, so it’s a good thing she’s sitting on him. 

Ryan Clark is still old-fashioned. They don’t fuck on the couch. He carries her to bed. Not bridal style. More like fumbling and clawing and shredding zippers, while keeping their mouths tethered. 

Billie can barely catch her breath. She’s going to have sex with the captain. Well, ‘fake captain’ but - well, when he kneels down to take off her panties (because of course he does) and looks up at her from his position at the foot of the bed it really feels like he _could_ be in charge. Like maybe his credentials check out. Billie sucks in a breath. He takes his sweet time climbing back up to her. 

  
  


Something else he’s surprisingly good at?

Making sure he doesn’t drop all his weight on her. The hands he used to hold her hips down now come around her and lower her gently against the pillows. They fall down together, panting like race horses. 

She leans her head on his shoulder. “Okay, yeah. You don’t always perform so poorly.” 

Ryan laughs hoarsely. His arm gathers her to him. His thumb traces her lower lip and she blushes a little because she can taste herself on it. 

“Do you think we could do this for six months instead of learning how to dock a ship?” he queries, hopeful.

Billie turns her whole body against his and the feeling of skin on skin, after they’ve done so many things to that skin, is pretty fantastic. 

“Think of it as motivation. You want to do this again?”

He snorts. He’d like to do it again right _now_ by the way he’s cupping the nearest breast. He just needs ten more minutes. Okay, make that twenty. “What do _you_ think?”

Billie grins. “I think that if you want to see me naked again you’ll learn how to dock the ship.” 

Ryan groans. “That’s not playing fair.”

Billie pecks him on the cheek and moves away from his greedy embrace, wrapping the sheet around her. “Get to work, Captain.” 

Ryan watches her shrug on her uniform and thinks that _yes_ , he’s goddamn ready to do the impossible if that means he’ll see her take it off again.

He catches her laughing a moment later. He stands by what he’d said previously. He wants to bottle that infectious laugh, turn it into a ringtone. Which. Yes, he does sound rather like a creep sometimes, doesn’t he?

“What’re you laughing about?” he asks archly. 

“Oh, I was just remembering you telling me earlier you could hug me.” 

Ryan smirks. “That escalated quickly.”

“Hm?”

“Old twenty-first century joke,” he mumbles, feeling old, but also quite _smug_ in the knowledge that she really likes that about him. “Come back to bed.”

“I told you, first you have to make some progress on -”

“Docking, yes. But I didn’t mean sex. Well, I _could_ mean sex, if that’s what you wanted. But I’ve had this raging insomnia for weeks and I think I might actually manage to fall asleep tonight. You look like you need it too.”

Billie lowers her zipper. Fuck it, he’s right. And God, it’s even more tempting to sleep with him than to sleep _with_ him, if you catch her drift.

She crawls back between the sheets and is welcomed into his warm arms, which act like the world’s strongest Xanax because she’s out cold before she has time to note that his luxury suite bed is _really_ comfy and he’s also pretty _buff_ for a guy his age. The two observations somehow correlate in her head and maybe she’ll remember why when she wakes up. 

Ryan looks down at his engineer fondly. All in all, today was pretty good. Stellar, even, if he were to indulge in a space metaphor.

He kisses the top of her head and soon follows her into dreamland.


End file.
